Book of Prologues
by Sub-Zero879
Summary: -Old- A collection of Ranma-based prologues of stories I will potentially write. Something new and unique, along with working as a great quick-read. More info inside.
1. Ascent of Dragons

**Disclaimer:** Ranma ½ is Takahashi's, not mine.

**History:** One day, I was bored enough to bring an empty, faded, spiral-bound notebook to school. In it, I tested possible story ideas by writing the prologues of them only. Now, I wish to share my ideas with you in an entirely new type of fanfiction - a collection of prologues. I will, most likely, be posting one prologue a week until I run out of my already finished ones, in which I'll post as I complete them.

**Before Reading:** This Book of Prologues is, as its name suggests, a book of ONLY PROLOGUES for different stories. Each chapter is a new story's prologue, not a continuation. Many people won't like this and will probably want to see them finished, but I hope that some people will find some appreciation in this. Also, there is some glimmer of hope as I plan on actually writing some, if not all, of them eventually. More info on each individual story at the bottom of their respective chapters.

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Prologue #1: Ascent of Dragons

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_Summary_: That's right, folks, my first prologue is a dragon story. A bitter cease-fire is drawn between the last two dragons in the world, and in it they agree to take time off and pose as humans with their memories sealed. The first dragon has reawaken, and now it searches for its nemesis: Ranma.

_Pairing_: Ranma/Original Character (OC)

_Setting_: Post-wedding. Nothing in Ranmaverse is altered.

_Status: _I might write this later.

_Note_: This is the first self-inspired story I ever thought of (IE no crossover, no ideas from other fics. This is ALL me.). I thought of this story roughly two years ago. This is not exactly the best prologue to start with, to get you guys 'hooked' into reading more, but it _is_ the first in the real Book of Prologues.

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"Traitor!" Powerful jaws snapped at a scaled throat.

The red dragon curved its long body around until it was out of the green dragon's claws. It roared and slammed its head into the green beast's breasts. It opened its maw and unleashed a torrent of flames. Once the stream died out, the red dragon crashed into the green once again and clamped its jaws down on its neck. Green wings beat frantically against the red dragon before its tail suddenly lashed up, knocking the red dragon aside. The two faced each other for a moment, flying thousands of feet above the ground.

The green dragon was bleeding in several areas, thick globs of crimson falling to the ground like rain. Several emerald scales had been ripped off, revealing the tender, pink skin under it in patches. One wing was pierced, a jagged hole, but it still remained airborne.

The red dragon was in better condition, but it was struggling to fly. Its left wing was broken. Blood was also smeared across its chest and oozed from a large hole near the tip of its tail. The two growled menacingly.

"I am getting tired of you, kinslayer," the red dragon spat out. Flames danced in its mouth, just barely retrained. "We are the last of our kind by your betrayal."

The green dragon roared in fury, the sound stretching out for miles. "You traitorous bastard! Do not deny the truth. You killed them all!" With a lurch of its wings, the green dragon shot forward.

The red dragon quickly maneuvered its body out of the talons' reach. It grasped the green within its own claws and curled its lip, bearing its fangs in disgust. "There you are again with your stories, kinslayer. It gets old over the years!"

The green dragon howled in rage and pain as the red dragon tried to rip out its forelegs. The emerald neck curved forward as it tried frantically to bite the red dragon. One bite caught hold of the ruby tail, and it bit off another chunk. The red dragon roared in pain and kicked the green away with its powerful back legs. The green dragon took a moment to right itself before launching back towards the red.

The two beasts suddenly puffed out their chests, their backs arching beautifully as their wings spread wide. With a sudden heave, both dragons unleashed white hot jets of fire. The two streams clashed into each other, adding to each other's heat. The two dragons continued their torrents until the green ran out of air. The red dragon, while not used to aerial fights with its weaker wings, had air to spare as its mighty lungs continued their stream. The ball of fire that had formed advanced until it exploded against the green dragon.

The emerald beast began descending. Its wings flapped weakly, but it couldn't stop its fall. The red dragon started struggling before its broken wing locked in pain and it tumbled after the green. After falling thousands of feet down, the green dragon regained enough strength to at least slow itself before it hit the ground hard. The ruby dragon had less luck as the furious flapping of its one good wing did little to slow it. Its large body, over fifty feet long, slammed into the ground not far from the green.

The red dragon whimpered in pain, but it managed to roll itself onto all four legs. The green dragon hadn't stood, but its long neck was arched up as it glared at the struggling beast. It snorted, producing billows of smoke. "When will you just stay down, traitor?"

The red dragon didn't answer for a moment. It looked back at its wings, checking the damage. It would be a few days before the broken one healed. It ignored the emerald dragon's growl as it cast an eye at the scenery.

The grassy field was splattered with blood. Their landings had torn large gashes into the earth. A live fire burned down a grove of trees not far away from their previous actions. A heavy rain poured down mercilessly. Lightning cracked down close by.

The red dragon returned its gaze to the emerald one. In a deep, rumbling voice, it said, "This can not go on, kinslayer."

The green dragon roared in response. It snapped, "You will pay for your betrayal, bastard! I don't care how many times it takes, I will kill you!"

The red dragon's lips curled, bearing its fangs, but it was silent for a moment. Finally, it said, "Kins-" It paused, "Allyra, if this goes on, we will end the race of dragons."

"You should have thought of that before you killed my kin! We trusted you, hunted with you, _lived_ with you! Why did you betray us?" Allyra didn't lose her glare.

The red dragon sat down, wincing in pain. "Every time, you come to me with the same story. Every time, you deny my response. I did NOT betray you!" It suddenly roared and snapped its jaws in fury, taking deep breaths. "My roost was covered with my slain brethren. Amongst the blood, what do I see? Scattered green scales! We are fierce; we would not be taken down without bringing some of you with us. You may take your fallen kin, but you cannot hide the scales."

"You lie!" The green beast was furious. "Even if you have the scales of my clan, you could have taken them from those you slaughtered. You bastard reds are known to take trophies."

The red dragon sighed, losing its fire. "This is getting us no where new. This cannot go on, Allyra."

The emerald dragon was silent for a moment, restraining itself. Eventually, it said, "And what do you propose we do? I will not stop until you are dead and I avenge my brethren."

"Maybe... Maybe that's exactly what you should do. I believe we should take a break from this futile game. Something isn't right. I believe the green dragonkin slaughtered my brethren; you believe the red dragonkin slaughtered yours when I know they did not. I can see now that you truly believe this. Why else would you fight so hard against the impossible? You gain nothing from ending the dragon race."

Allyra was glaring, but she considered his words. "You could have killed me so many times," she mused. "I _know_ the red dragonkin attacked us. I _saw_ you kill my brother. And yet, you deny everything. Why?"

The red dragon folded its wings, wincing when the broken wing snapped into place. "This must end, or it will be the death of all dragons."

"And what do you propose we do?" the green dragon asked again, losing her heat but not her hate.

"We take a break. Check out other worlds; look for lost dragons; I don't know. Hell, mingle with the humans if you want. I just want a break to think about this."

Allyra paused, her slitted eyes narrow. After a moment, she growled out, "Maybe it would be better not to think about this."

The red dragon craned its neck thoughtfully. "What do you mean?"

"Seal our memories, live new lives. I say we both go live human lives, and after, see if anything has changed."

The red dragon hummed, the sound coming in a great rumble. "Seal our memories?" he mused. "Maybe that would be best. If anything, the only thing it can waste is time, and that's exactly what I want." It stood, powerful legs trembling from the pain of their previous actions. "And if one of us is awakened before the other?"

Allyra shrugged her massive emerald shoulders before wincing. "I wouldn't mind meeting you without your memories. It could be interesting."

"Or an opportunity to kill me while I'm weak," the red dragon grunted bitterly.

"You deserve it," the green beast huffed. "Traitor."

The red dragon ignored her as it glanced around at the devastated scenery again. Its slitted eyes were fixed on a lifeless mountain in the distance when it asked, "Where will you go?"

The green dragon almost shrugged again before she caught herself. "I hear America has been a decent place for the last century or so."

The red dragon's gaze settled back on Allyra. "Good. I prefer we split up. I am heading to Japan."

"Japan? Why would you go there? I still remember their dragon hunting parties," Allyra asked, her beautiful, reptilian head cocked to the side slightly. The look then turned bitter. "Of course, you bastards finished the job for them."

The red dragon ignored the jab as it said, "They have always interested me. I still wish to know what prompted the Kamikaze to protect them all those years ago."

Emerald green wings unfurled, spreading wide across the grassy field. Before she took to the air, Allyra paused. In a sad, almost wistful tone, she muttered, "Before... _that_ happened, I loved you." She snorted. "I just thought you should know."

The red dragon's lips curled in a hint of a true smile. "I knew."

"Why did you never say anything then?" she asked suspiciously.

The crimson tail flicked as the red dragon paused, thinking about what to say. "I... I want to say I was going to tell you the same day the slaughtered happened, but... that's not true." The green dragon waited for him to finish. "I guess I was just shy. I didn't want anything to change."

"Shy? You were anything _but_ shy, you arrogant asshole," Allyra snorted. With a couple of powerful flaps, she was again airborne. "But you never did like change."

Red pupils watched her hover there. Once again, their many fights ended unresolved. At least this time they had a plan. Allyra stared at him for a moment longer before she turned around and flew to the west, the long way to America, probably to think about this latest encounter.

The red dragon watched until she was a green speck in the distance clouded by the rain before he turned around and began walking south. Each footfall thundered, overheard through the downpour and blending with the real thunder.

Once again, he let her go free. The red dragon easily unfurled its own wings and took to the air. The bleeding wounds suddenly clotted. The red dragon didn't even flinch as its broken wing healed flawlessly. He was the better fighter, always had been. Allyra had never stood a chance, but throughout all of their fights, he didn't truly wish her harm. The red dragon now looked unharmed as it gracefully flew towards Japan. Despite it all, he had never really stopped returning her feelings.

Allyra sighed to herself, wincing slightly at the pain of her wounds. She never had mastered healing magic. Her thoughts drifted back to the latest fight. She couldn't shake the feeling that the red dragon was just using this as an excuse to stymie her righteous retribution. As it was, she would go with his plan. She hoped that there would be some difference when it was over. Even after all that time, after all the fights, she still felt something for him. She grunted in annoyance.

As she flew in relative silence, not taking notice of the passing scenery, a single name slipped past her lips. "Ranma..."

****

Seventeen years later, in America, a girl lay dying. She coughed, splattering more blood onto the sidewalk. The driver of the car that had hit her staggered out. He pulled off his baseball cap, wringing it fearfully in his fists.

The girl, despite her pain, wasn't screaming. She eased herself back, letting out a brief hiss. Her stunning green eyes turned to the peaceful night sky above her. Her wounds were long forgotten as stared up into the stars.

"Oh my God! Miss, are you alright?" the driver asked, but the girl didn't hear him.

She was dying, she knew, but for some strange reason, it wasn't the end. She didn't know how or why she thought that, but it was the truth. Maybe there really was some form of afterlife waiting for the dead.

The driver nervously noticed all of the lifeblood bleeding out of the girl. It was a hopeless cause. Regardless, he didn't want her to know that. He whipped out his cell phone and dialed 911. A quick conversation later, he kneeled next to the young girl he had hit.

"Miss, I already called the hospital. You are going to be alright," he lied worriedly. The girl made no attempt to acknowledge him, but he could tell she wasn't dead yet. Her eyes were glazed as she stared up. The man bit into his lip.

Suddenly, there was a rumbling. The man stumbled, confused, before he fell over into a pool of the girl's blood. He remained still, too stunned to pull himself as the rumbling increased. It seemed such a weird coincidence that there would be an earthquake just then, right as a girl he had hit was about to die.

The girl's eyes suddenly widened, her body jerking with the earthquake. Foreign memories invaded her mind... or were unlocked from a previous confinement. Loves, hates, events, and countless other things were relived. As the horde slowly ebbed down, she understood. She wasn't Marissa... She was... Allyra. With that, the memories ended, but the rumbling only became more intense.

The driver had no idea what was happening. Suddenly, the girl he had hit started changing. In a series of sickening crunches, her body altered. Bones stretched, her skin straining as her body morphed. With a ripping sound, her skin tore off. The man watched, horrified. Under the skin, dazzling emerald scales were revealed in the dim and bloody headlights of the truck. A series of powerful flapping sounds were heard as Allyra took to the skies.

While her human body was destroyed, her true form was unharmed. Now free, Allyra let out a powerful roar. The driver shook in fear and awe. Allyra did a fancy aerial maneuver, stretching her body, before she landed only feet away from the mortal who had 'killed' her. The man barely recognized what she was, but he was too afraid to speak or move. She considered killing him in retaliation, but after a moment decided against it. Instead, she weaved a spell that put him asleep. After a brief look around, she made all of her spilled blood vanish and repaired the small dent on the truck. Satisfied that there remained no trace of her, Allyra turned back to the driver. While it was challenging, she managed to erase his memories of what had happened that night.

Her work done, Allyra took three powerful flaps of her wings and was once again airborne. As she flew away from the town that had been her home for the last seventeen years, she didn't take a single look back. She had a destination: Japan. With her unlocked memories, finding another dragon, even a disguised one, would be a cinch. She figured that Ranma still hadn't awoken given that he hadn't tried to make any contact with her.

She didn't know what she would do when she got there. Even if he was a traitor, he would have no memories of what had happened, no memories of what he was. She considered reawakening him herself. Suddenly, her more mischievous nature reared forth. She might as well have some fun with this. After all, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

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Well, folks, there you have it.

This story has many possible outcomes, and the plot is visible even in just this. For the overall, it could/would/should be a confrontation with the real culprit who murdered the dragons. I can already see scenes of Allyra (in human form) deciding to act like one of Ranma's fiancée's (or old girlfriend) only to find he already has two fiancées, a wife, and a suitor, and Ranma convincing her to visit her temporary human family. Not to mention his 'unbreakable' Jusenkyo curse (heh, female dragon Ranma). Also, a lot could be explained if Ranma had cast a 'you shall live in interesting times' curse on himself before entering Nodoka's womb.

In short, I see this as an enjoyable quick write, but I don't see myself writing this for a very long time.

_**A final note:**_ I'm open on giving some of these prologues to other authors to continue (WITH MY PERMISSION), but I would only want people who would (a) complete it and (b) can write well enough for it to be enjoyable. You can ask me in a signed review, and I'll examine your other works to see if I'm willing to give it away to you. I'll PM back an acceptable author, along with some background notes on the story. However, I know a couple of Prologues that I for sure won't give to other authors, but you can always ask.

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Churro: A new story, I see.

Sub-Zero879: This is your kinda thing, isn't it? Short chapters make an easy edit.

Churro: Yes, but I feel like this will be your first flamed story. Especially since this isn't even a real 'story.'

Sub-Zero879: Meh, let them come. I'm actually thinking that this will get next to no reviews.

Churro: Hmm, probably. Like you told me, this is a gamble. It will definitely start off slow, but it might grow into a big hit as you continuously update. For example, I'm expecting good reviews for your third and forth prologues, but not for this one and definitely not for prologue number two.

Sub-Zero879: ...Are you talking about quality or returning fans?

Churro: A little bit of both, actually.

Sub-Zero879: Just get back to editing and we'll see where this goes. If worst comes to worst, I can just delete this. I can't wait for the next update and the responses from people who didn't read my pre-story warnings, my post-story notes, nor the %^$$ing title.

Churro: Through the thick and the thin, eh?

Sub-Zero879: Aye. Let's give this a little test run.


	2. Ranma Saotome and the Holes in Life

**Disclaimer:** Ranma ½ is Takahashi's, not mine.

**History:** One day, I was bored enough to bring an empty, faded, spiral-bound notebook to school. In it, I tested possible story ideas by writing the prologues of them only. Now, I wish to share my ideas with you in an entirely new type of fanfiction - a collection of prologues. I will, most likely, be posting one prologue a week until I run out of my already finished ones, in which I'll post as I complete them.

**Before Reading:** This Book of Prologues is, as its name suggests, a book of ONLY PROLOGUES for different stories. Each chapter is a new story's prologue, not a continuation. Many people won't like this and will probably want to see them finished, but I hope that some people will find some appreciation in this. Also, there is some glimmer of hope as I plan on actually writing some, if not all, of them eventually. More info on each individual story at the bottom of their respective chapters.

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Prologue #2: Ranma Saotome and the Holes in Life

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_Summary_: AU. (Alright, this is a strange one) Long ago, the worlds of life and death merged. For long, Ranma had stayed away from the damned lands. Of course, he couldn't stay away forever, could he?

_Pairing_: Ranma/OC (maybe with hints of Hinako (but nothing serious, I think))

_Setting_: Uhh, I really... don't know. Given what it is, its hard to place Saffron. Definitely post-Hinako, but it won't seem like that at first.

_Status:_ I really want to write this. It should come sometime after I'm done with my currently active fic.

_Note_: This is actually the _third_ prologue. I never really liked the second: it was half finished and overall just a copy of the inspiration. This, however, was inspired by a single photo (which can be found at the top of my prologue, if you're curious). As an AU, it will be hard to understand at first. This is one of my favorites in all of BoP (Book of Prologues).

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_It came suddenly, unexpectedly, like the fury of God thundering down in a mighty blow. In the mid of night, Witching Hour, an unforgiving crack could be heard from every corner of the Earth. That was the last time anyone saw the stars. The fiery glow of Hell now erased the Heavens. Provinces had sprung up, places that could not be specifically located and yet could be found everywhere: in every town, on the other side of every river, in the mid of any forest, and even in the mid of any sea. These Provinces, the land of the dead, were always shifting. One could never walk around one and say "here it is." They moved as you did._

_And from these rips in the world of life came an outpouring of the dead. Endless shambles of souls long lost marched towards the living. We met them with what we thought were righteous blades all around the world. The war was questionably easy, our armies tearing into their frail, skeletal bodies until they retreated back into their own damned lands._

_After three days of an uneasy silence, a single man - not a skeleton, mind you - approached our settlement from our Province. We assumed him to be Lucifer until he spoke, and we found that a representative was visiting every town, not just ours._

_Not much was explained, but we were told the fusion of our two worlds was permanent. With no other option besides extermination, we reached an agreement: we do not enter their land, and they will not enter ours._

_And with these terms set, we moved on. Our lives resumed some of its normalcy, despite the never-ending presence of the Provinces. True to their word, no one ever saw one of the damned again._

_It was a shame, really, that the undead were more honest than us living. Not every town in this world accepted their peaceful separation. Many men schemed to expel these lost souls. Many armies marched into their own respective Provinces. None were ever seen again._

_And like this, the New Age was born. And by God I hope that it can last, for I do not believe we held off their 'assault' because of our skill, but because of their peaceful intentions. Please, remember the rules, and whatever you do, do _not_ antagonize the dead._

-Origins of the Provinces, 1564, Author lost.

****

_The First Law: Stay Away from the Boundaries_

****

"Akane, come quick! Ranma's being a pervert again!" Yuka shouted as she found Ranma's fiancée in hallway.

The blue haired woman blinked in surprise as Sayuri and a couple of other girls claimed the same thing. "I'm sure you're mistaken," she muttered, but she followed them anyways.

The girls led Akane to a closed door, where several guys were already crowding. "Yeah, Ranma! Good job, man," Hiroshi grinned, thumping the door once in encouragement. He froze suddenly when he noticed Akane approaching. The guys quickly backed away from the door.

Akane quietly crossed the remaining distance before calling out, "Ranma, are you in there?"

Ranma's voice, slightly muffled but still carrying traces of worry, answered her. "Yeah, but don't come in!"

Akane curiously put her ear to the door but didn't hear anything else. That obviously meant he was doing anything too perverted, right? But… "Ranma, what are you doing in there?"

After a second, he scoffed, "Hinako of course."

A red battle aura sprung up around her, scarring the nearby students, but she restrained herself for the time being. Her voice came sickly sweet. "Are your hands on her breasts?"

In the room, Ranma looked down at his hands and then up at Hinako's raised eyebrow. Why did this always have to happen when he tried to stop Hinako's power? "Uh, my hands are on her… pressure points."

"I'm sorry, Ranma," came Hinako's older voice, "but I'm not quite ready to give up my powers yet." Before Ranma could wonder what she meant, the teacher let out a loud moan that could be clearly heard through the door.

"Gah, what are you-" Ranma was cut off when Hinako suddenly thrust her chest forward - deeper into his hands - and wrapped both arms and a leg around him.

The door slammed open with a loud bang, and a red light spilled into the dark room. "Rrrannnmaaaa," a voice growled out. Said martial artist froze in fear.

He turned around slowly, breaking out into a nervous sweat. "Akane it's not what it looks- murph!" Hinako turned his head and planted her lips on his. Ranma's eyes widened in shock.

"Ranma! You _Jerk!"_ Akane shouted as she marched up to him and punted him through the wall.

Hinako had a sly grin as she waved sexily at the retreating form that had just been ripped out of her arms. She turned around and smirked at the fuming girl. Suddenly, her energy ran out and she shrunk back into her child form. She planted her little fists on the sides of her now large dress and tried to look intimidating. "All of you, back to class. Now!" Akane moved first, visibly deflating as she shuffled past the silent crowd just outside the doorway. Once everyone was gone, Hinako touched her lips with a childish smile and giggled before following the students back to class.

Ranma was still in shock from what Hinako had just done. _Where did she learn how to do that with her tongue?_ he thought to himself before cursing. _Ah, bad thoughts!_ He tried to focus on his landing.

His flight was of a low arc, but he still had a nice view of Nerima as he skimmed past rooftops. In the corner of his eye, he could make out the red of the boundaries, the newer name for Provinces. The first time Akane had launched him into the sky, he had been afraid of landing in one of the forbidden zones. However, their shifting nature made sure he never even came close. Even this flight followed that trend, with his landing site at least three miles from the nearest boundary.

Ranma finally reached the ground: the path next to the canal. With his low flight, he came to a skidding halt instead of a single impact. When he finally stopped sliding, Ranma glanced at his slippers and winced. He would definitely need to buy a new pair after that.

While dusting himself off, Ranma glanced up when he noticed a splash of crimson to the side. He stopped cold, one hand still in the middle of brushing off his orange shirt.

There, just on the other side of the canal, rising up like the Gate to Hell, with shades of murky cherry swimming around each other in a slow, unnoticeable pattern, accompanied by the warning droll of a world rent in two, and looking just as bold and imposing as Ranma remembered, was the monolithic wall of the boundary.

Ranma, still frozen, let out an audible gulp. He wasn't afraid or nothin', but it was only right to feel unease at the sight of the barrier between life and death. He didn't notice that he had taken a step back.

Given the shifting nature of the boundaries, it wasn't too unheard of to see a sudden change like this. However, one could not get close to the boundaries unless they, or someone nearby, chose to approach them. It was a phenomenon that researchers had been studying for ages; the wall came to those who wished to come to it. Otherwise, accidentally finding it was like accidentally finding the end of a rainbow… which Ranma had also done.

With all of the craziness in his life over the last year, Ranma wouldn't have been too surprised if he was suddenly challenged by one of the undead of the history books. Despite his expectations, being confronted by the real possibility was more unsettling than he thought it would be. He half expected legions to begin pouring out with him having to hold them off.

Ranma shook his head clear of those thoughts. It had to be coincidence. He begin to turn so that he could head back to the school. It would be bad to be seen by a Ranger while so close to the boundary.

Rangers were a group of people whose sole duty was to enforce the laws of the boundaries. They were like a specialized force of police. If someone found a violation of a law, they reported it to the Rangers. Many were sent to patrol the borders of the boundaries and keep people away. Because they wished to be near the boundaries, the boundaries stayed near them. However, if a new boundary sprung up somewhere, it made anyone nearby seem suspicious of violating the first law. Already, teams had to be swarming towards his location.

However, before he could make a full turn around, Ranma heard a splash. Again he froze, thinking that the Rangers could already be there. He turned back. The only source of water was the canal that separated him from the malignant boundary. What he saw, however, left him confused and then blushing profusely.

A girl, roughly the same age as him, lay crouched in the water. Her hair was brown, darkened from being wet. Her startling blue eyes, lighter than Ranma's own, looked startled themselves. While she could obviously be seen as cute, which Ranma even admitted to himself, that wasn't what had him blushing. She was naked, bare and pale flesh glistening in the water, with her crouched stance expertly or accidentally covering her where it mattered.

The girl looked up suddenly, blue eyes widening in fear when she saw Ranma staring. She looked at his clothed form, his tanned skin, and the bulk of his flesh. She saw his long hair, his steady breaths, his visible eyes. Before Ranma could call out to her, she bolted in the direction of the boundary.

She scrambled up the canal wall, her movements burdened and slipping slightly. Ranma noticed her finely shaped posterior before he could stop himself and was glad Akane wasn't there to pound him for it. The girl reached the opposing fence, clambered on top, and, before Ranma could react, leaped like a flying squirrel. With the sound of a loud zap, like a sci-fi teleportation, her form disappeared into the red wall.

Ranma was stunned. Someone, a naked girl no less, had just gone into the boundary. A darker patch of red, Ranma assumed it to be her silhouette, rose from a small dark circle into a large oval. The lighter shades clashed into the sides of the dark patch, distorting it. However, Ranma was sure that the dark patch was getting smaller. He stared, intoxicated by the forbidden sight. It wasn't getting smaller as in further away but pinched in from the sides like an hourglass. A lighter patch grew from the bottom, forming an upside-down V with two stick-like shifting patterns barely visible. Then, suddenly, the dark patch was gone. The lighter waves rolled over it, causing it to disappear.

Ranma could barely form a coherent thought. There was no possible way to describe what he had just seen; there was no possible way to explain it. The boundary, the girl, the patches of light… He stared, dumbstruck.

"There he is!" He had forgotten about the Rangers.

No sooner did the sound reach his ears did Ranma find himself tackled off his feet. Multiple captors locked him down. He knew he could probably fight his way out, even if there were the special "Neriman Rangers." That is, he felt he could have won until he felt a knife blade at his throat and saw a taser before his eyes. They took no chances when it came to the boundary, especially in Nerima.

Ranma relaxed himself in submission. His pride was hurt, but he wouldn't fight the law. Slowly, cautiously, several Rangers released him - not all of them, of course - and righted themselves. The knife was removed, but the taser was kept on hand, only a half-second away from stunning its target. The two who were still holding his arms down lifted him to his feet but didn't let go.

There were six of them. Two held his arms still, two stood to the side watching him (they had held down his legs), one man's hand rested on his knife with his eyes narrowed (they all had knives attached to their belts, but he was the quickest and most willing to draw), and the last man of the six held the taser.

The knife man let out a breath. "I've been expecting this sooner or later." He paused, drawing himself up. "Ranma Saotome, in violation of the First Law of the Boundaries, you are under arrest."

"Wait a second, its not my fault!" Ranma tried to argue.

The man smiled. "Knowing you, it probably isn't." He turned his head to look to the other side of the canal. "But then why did the boundary retreat once we distracted you?"

"What?" Ranma gasped out, also turning. True to the Ranger's word, only grass could be seen where a sinister, red wall had been previously. The boundary was gone.

Confusion and questions bubbled forth in Ranma's mind, but before he could voice any of them, the Rangers were dragging him away.

* * *

And that wraps up number two of who knows how many. As promised, this came one week after the first and the next will be one week from now.

I am particularly fond of this story, although I understand how confusing the concepts of the boundaries, the land of the dead, and everything else will be. I have a feel of how this story will work out, along with quite a few ideas of what will happen. I know you're all eager to see what's on the other side of a 'boundary,' right? …Right? …I guess not.

Anyways, compared to the last prologue, this story would have to be well thought out and carefully presented. A new world has to be introduced and described, with a functional society on not one but _two_ parts. On top of that, Ranma has to be fit into this with all of his crazy episodes. Definitely a challenge, but one I'm willing to rise to.

One thing I came to understand last chapter was how limited reviewing is for BoP. It could be categorized by: "I hope you write this story," "nice," "can I finish for you," "next/update," and "this is horrible." Props to anyone who can conjure a meaningful review beyond that.

_**A final note:**_ I'm open on giving some of these prologues to other authors to continue (WITH MY PERMISSION), but I would only want people who would (a) complete it and (b) can write well enough for it to be enjoyable. You can ask me in a signed review, and I'll examine your other works to see if I'm willing to give it away to you. I'll PM back an acceptable author, along with some background notes on the story. However, I know a couple of Prologues that I for sure won't give to other authors, but you can always ask.

* * *

Sub-Zero879: Well, that went as expected. Three reviews.

Churro: At least you haven't been flamed yet.

Sub-Zero879: Nah, those will come this chapter, I believe.

Churro: What is the probability of your next three reviews including a flame?

Sub-Zero879: …Hopefully there will be more than three this time, given your theory of returning fans and newcomers.

Churro: Hmm, you did leave out Prologue number two (which I still say was horrible), so you might get a bit more.

Sub-Zero879: Gee, thanks. I'll set my goal to about five.

Churro: I say four regular reviews and one confused flamer. Let's do this.

Sub-Zero879: Alright, BoP round two is a go. Have a memorable Memorial Day, I'll see you readers next week.


	3. Unnamed

**Disclaimer:** Ranma ½ is Takahashi's, not mine. "But he's just a ramen chef!" is Viperflamer's, not mine.

**History:** One day, I was bored enough to bring an empty, faded, spiral-bound notebook to school. In it, I tested possible story ideas by writing the prologues of them only. Now, I wish to share my ideas with you in an entirely new type of fanfiction - a collection of prologues. I will, most likely, be posting one prologue a week until I run out of my already finished ones, in which I'll post as I complete them.

**Before Reading:** This Book of Prologues is, as its name suggests, a book of ONLY PROLOGUES for different stories. Each chapter is a new story's prologue, not a continuation. Many people won't like this and will probably want to see them finished, but I hope that some people will find some appreciation in this. Also, there is some glimmer of hope as I plan on actually writing some, if not all, of them eventually. More info on each individual story at the bottom of their respective chapters.

* * *

Prologue #3: Unnamed

* * *

_Summary_: Ranma was the best martial artist in the world… by age 12. However, after a fight gone wrong, 12 year old Ranma gave up the art. Fast-forward 4 years and…

_Pairing_: Ranma/?? (I don't know yet, but not one of the fiancées.)

_Setting_: Start of the series, but in an different style.

_Status:_ I'm going to need a plot, then I can write it.

_Note_: Also one of my favorites. My inspiration was the fanfiction "But he's just a ramen chef!" by Viperflamer, although not as much humor oriented. I got the idea last month. Also, I have no idea what the plot to this story could be. *sheepish grin*

* * *

The crowd's roar was deafening. Thousands strong, people from all over the world had come to view the tournament. Among the crowd were Genma and Nodoka Saotome, the parents of young Ranma Saotome.

"Come on, Ranma! Show him who is more manly!"

"That'a'boy, Ranma! No weakness!"

Twelve year old Ranma could hear neither of them through the cheering crowd. A playful grin was plastered on his face as he danced around the much older fighter's blurring fists.

"Too slow, grandpa!" he taunted as he performed a one-handed handstand.

Toji, the other finalist after 500 competitors, growled at that boy's insolence. He introduced his lightning fast kicks into the fray.

Ranma suddenly found himself on a more physical defensive, having to slap away the attacks that got too close. His grin was still there. His neck snapped to the side to avoid a high punch. "Would you look at that… You almost hit my hair that time." The derogatory tone was obvious.

Toji decided it was time to end it. He jumped back, building space between them. A red glow built around his hand. "Blazing Punch!"

Ranma saw his opponent lurch forward as the glow around his right fist intensified. He had no time to dodge and instead opted to block with his bracers.

Crack!

Ranma winced as he found himself airborne. His arms still rung with the force of the blow. Worried that he might fall out of the ring, he spun his body to face his destination. Moving his leaden arms, Ranma held out a hand, aimed for the empty grass, and shouted, "Moko Takabisha!"

The yellow blast slowed his flight and pushed his trajectory safely back in the arena. He landed gracefully and faced the enraged Toji. He blinked as a weight suddenly left his wrists. Looking down, he saw that his two bronze bracers had cracked and now broken off.

_Whoa, he infused his ki into his fist for an explosive impact instead of increasing strength. I never thought of that,_ the young martial artist thought to himself. Satisfied that he learned a new move, Ranma decided to incorporate it and end the fight.

A leap forward had the two fighters engaged yet again. As they fought, Ranma unleashed his own technique. "Kachu Tenshin Amaguriken Revised: Blazing Impact!"

Toji barely had time to widen his eyes before it hit him. Ranma's fists glowed red, like Toji's had, and then blurred into unseeable blows. When it was over, Toji was suddenly launched back and harshly embedded in the wall before the stands, clearly outside the arena. Ranma sent a silent thanks to the Amazons he had met less than a year prior to the tournament.

Everyone jumped to their feet, cheering and clapping loudly at the display. Ranma grinned at the praise and scratched the base of his pigtail in a typical stance. That look made the front pages.

The announcer scrambled up onto the arena platform and stood before the champion. The crowd was still cheering, but it had died down enough to where they could hear him speak. "So Ranma Saotome, the youngest champion of the World's Martial Arts Tournament, what are your thoughts on beating the previous champion Yakamura, Toji?"

"I'm the best," Ranma answered boldly.

The man held the microphone there for a moment longer until he realized Ranma wasn't going to say more. "That you are, Ranma, and this tournament proved that. Congratulations! Everyone, here is your new champion, Ranma Saotome!" The cheering roared anew.

****

"That's my manly son!"

Nodoka happily enveloped Ranma in a hug, pulling him off his feet. Genma didn't grumble at the display as his eyes were latched onto the prize money check. Ranma, after being smothered by his mother, was content with his engraved, gold-plated trophy (1).

_Ranma Saotome_

_Twelve Years Old_

_Youngest Champion In History_

_Champion Of The 45th World's Martial Arts Tournament_

_Undefeated Victor Of 17 Matches, A New Record_

_1999_

****

"Alright, it's time to go home now, Ranma," Nodoka called out.

"You guys go on ahead. I just want to thank Toji for the new technique," Ranma replied cheerfully as he ran further inside the stadium building.

"We'll see you at home, then!" Nodoka shouted just before Ranma skirted a corner. Normally she would be worried about her twelve year old walking the four miles home from Tokyo's Grand Martial Arts Stadium by himself, but since he was the 'World's Best Martial Artist,' she knew he'd be fine.

Ranma entered the stadium infirmary. He skipped past the crowds of patients, many of which he had put in there himself, and focused on the man lying in the last bed. Toji scowled at his jubilant opponent. "What do you want, gaki? Come here to rub it in?"

Ranma gently, with the utmost care, set the trophy on the ground. In his trademark stance, he pulled off a face-splitting grin and scratched the base of his pigtail. "Actually, I want to thank you for the fight and the new technique."

Toji's glare softened, and he closed his eyes. "Yeah, no problem, kid." Ranma didn't respond, simply standing there and staring. After awhile, Toji opened his eyes again. "You're good, kid."

"The best!" Ranma replied happily.

"Heh, you just might be. I've never seen someone learn my ultimate move before, and after getting hit by it just once you reproduced it! And your ki control is astounding-" He stopped suddenly, remembering who he was talking to. He looked up at the child who replaced him as champion and hesitated. "Kid, what do you fight for?"

Ranma blinked, looking confused at the simple question. "To be the best, of course."

Toji sighed and closed his eyes again. "That's not good enough, kid," he mumbled. "And I hope you never have to find out why."

Ranma felt awkward. Neither his father nor his countless other sensei had told him something like that before. He had no idea what Toji meant. He decided to finish up. "Alright, well, thank you." Toji grunted. "Bye!"

"See you next year… Ranma."

****

Ranma exited the building to see it was already twilight. He entered a light trot for the walk home. His parents had taken the car, despite the relatively close distance, so they were most likely already home waiting for him or almost there.

Ranma took a shortcut through the more rural section. He wasn't at a sprint, so it was already mostly dark when he ducked through a shadowy alley. The young champion, still clutching his trophy, plodded through and exited the other side to a lit, if abandoned, street.

He casually crossed the street and entered another alley. When he was halfway through, he noticed a silhouette of someone move to block his exit. He slowed to a stop. While not exactly nervous, he was used to being randomly attacked and sent his ki senses out. He felt another person blocking the way he had entered along with several others moving in.

He waited, gold trophy in both hands, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Well, well, well. Right where they said you would be," the first man started. His voice wasn't particularly deep, maybe late twenties, and carried the undertone of mocking confidence. He stopped less than five paces away from Ranma, two others also moving in behind the man.

"You wanna fight?" Ranma asked with a smirk, knowing how these situations usually worked. They'd attack and he would pound them into pulp. As usual.

Ranma couldn't see the features of his would-be mugger, but he could tell the man was smirking when he spoke. "Not exactly." He lifted a shadowed hand up and rested on something on his waist. Ranma assumed it to be a knife. Nothing new.

Before the man could draw whatever it was, Ranma was in motion. He lashed out with a ridiculously powerful kick. The man flew back with a grunt, colliding with the two people behind him and sending all three into the lit street beyond. Something clattered in the stone alley with hard clicks - the thing that had been in the man's picket.

Ranma didn't notice this, however. He had already spun, facing his other assailants, when he heard a sickening sound just as the first three men landed. A loud screech of tires skidding before twin thumps were heard. Part of Ranma knew what that was instantly, but a greater part of his mind - the martial artist part -kept his eyes on his opponents and focused.

Ranma lurched forward with speed that belied his age. He smacked the last two guys into the walls of the alley with his feet as the trophy occupied his hands. They slumped down, unconscious, having formed two large dents in the bricks of the parallel buildings.

Ranma's mind finally allowed itself to register the sound and he turned slowly. His insides clenched as his jaw fell open in mute shock. At the end of the alley, he could see the back end of a car, the brake lights still glaring an angry red form its sudden stop. Behind it, in mutilated lumps and growing puddles of consequence, were the two black garbed men, their chest and stomach respectively crushed.

Ranma felt an urge to get closer, to confirm the fatalities, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the shadowed alley into that unforgiving light. The shadows provided a dark protection. He clutched his trophy to his chest.

As the driver of the car, a middle-age woman, staggered towards the men she had run over, a new person entered the alley. He rested heavily against a building, one arm held protectively over his stomach. Ranma didn't know the person by face, but his voice, even with the dramatic change of tone, gave him away. "Fodder, all of them."

He spat, and a glob of bloody saliva smacked into the ground. "Just as I thought, martial arts consumes you. Jumping to conclusions at the slightest provocation, just like a child." He tossed something in the air. Ranma, his tummy icy, watched it come.

The object made a fluttering sound, like a bird's wings, before it hit the ground with a resounding and piercing plop. Ranma turned his head. Still numb, it took his mind awhile to process what it was. A folded magazine lay there, the page opened to _his_ face, obvious in the accusing street lights. Next to it - the object the man had dropped after the initial kick - was a simple ball point pin.

"For autographs," the man clarified in a calm voice. Those simple words hit Ranma like no martial artist ever could. He dropped his prized trophy. Seeing this, the man smiled grimly.

The woman who had hit the two men was on her cell phone, talking to the hospital in a panicked voice.

The man pushed off the wall and slunk towards Ranma, his feet dredging. Ranma fell to his knees; a tear landed on the trophy in a deafening Dink! The struck child's eyes fell from his 'handiwork' to his life's goal - the cup glistening wrongly beautiful in the street's lights. He was silent, but the tears fell freely. By then, the unknown man had reached him.

Click.

Ranma's breath hitched as he stiffened. He didn't look up, however. He knew what it was. In truth, he could get away in a flash, but a part of him made him stay down; it told him he deserved it.

Above him, the injured man held a gun at the mighty warrior's… the defeated child's head. "You made a lot of people - big, powerful people - lose a lot of money at that tournament. They hired me and my team to… express their displeasement because I don't discriminate between child and adult."

Ranma didn't say anything. He simply waited. He was surprised, however, when the man dropped the gun. The black, illegal weapon clattered next to the bulky trophy. He looked up as the mercenary clasped a big hand on his shoulder and kneeled next to him.

The man had regained his confident smirk as the pain in his stomach lessened. His eyes were cold and cruel. "Mine was not the only team. Another was sent for your family; other big, powerful people wanted you to experience mental pain. If you leave now, you may make it just in time to see your parents die."

Ranma was too stunned to move at first. It didn't make sense that the man sent to kill him would warn him about something like this, especially after Ranma had… killed two of his men. "W-Why?"

"Why kill you or your family? Hmm, I don't know. Petty revenge for lost money. To teach you a lesson. Because they can." Ranma weakly shook his head. That wasn't what he meant. The man's smirk widened. And he knew it.

But Ranma knew he didn't have time. With shaky movements, the twelve year old boy picked up his tarnished trophy and stood. The man let go of his shoulder and watched him leave, cruel smirk still plastered on his face.

Ranma took one last, hesitating look over to the two dead men. The woman was kneel next to them, craning her neck to see when the ambulance would get there. Then, he was gone.

****

As Ranma ran, dark emotions clashed in his heavy heart. Fear, sorrow, confusion, and …rage. Yes, anger was dominate in the preteen's troubled mind. Angry at himself, angry at the assassins, angry at the stupid tournament and the stupid bettors. But, most of all, he was angry at _martial arts._

The art had been his life, from walking to present, and now it could have been the death of all that he cared about. Training with his pops had been fun - it had its merits - but it also had its… difficulties. The worst of which was-

Splash!

Ranma was stunned that she would trigger her curse at such a crucial moment of her life. Scowling darkly, she pressed on.

Now, _martial arts_ had brought on the assassins. _Martial arts_ had gotten those two men killed. _Martial arts_ was now endangering her family. And, just as _martial arts_ had started it all, it was _martial arts_ that had to finish it… and she would finish it, once and for all.

Ranma, still dripping wet, shifted the trophy into one hand. The other curled into a claw-like stance. Suddenly, sharp ki blades appeared. Ranma had _mastered_ the Neko-ken, the invincible fighting technique. Her form was almost blurring as she ran. Those would-be assassins would not get the chance to hurt her family. In fact, they would never have that chance again.

The redhead burst out of the last alley, a simple leap allowing her to dodge a speeding car. Too bad those two guys hadn't been that lucky. While still in the air, she caught sight of her… targets. With a battle cry of unrestrained rage, she was upon the five-man cell that was stealthily progressing towards her home. Their roughly concealed weapons mattered naught.

****

The doorknob turned silently. The front door opened with an eerie creek. In walked Ranma.

Nodoka stepped out of the kitchen at the sound, eager to see her manly son. At the same time, Genma stepped out of the dining room, holding a half-finished bowl of rice. They both stopped cold when they saw him, currently a her.

Young, undeveloped Ranma had her head bowed, her bangs concealing her eyes. The hair itself, usually a fiery crimson, was matted down and dark with blood. That wasn't all. Her entire body, especially her right, tightly-balled first, was dripping with the gruesome liquid. Even her once gleaming and proud trophy, now burdensome and dragging on the ground with a loose left hand, was splattered and stained. Marvelously, her clothes were perfectly intact despite the blood.

Leaving the door open, Ranma took a slow step forward, continuing her small trail of blood. So shocked were Genma and Nodoka that they couldn't even move or speak until she was right in front of them. Ranma lifted her trophy up and shoved it into her father's chest, which he numbly held onto with his free hand. Ranma shuffled past them. In a dead voice, she simply announced, "I quit."

Nodoka was the first to speak. In a horrified tone, she exclaimed, "Ranma! What happened?"

Ranma ignored the question. She repeated, "I quit the Art."

"Boy!" Genma started, then he hesitated. "So long as you're a Saotome, you're a martial artist."

That stopped Ranma at the foot of the stairs. She turned around slowly and finally raised her head. Hard, tearstained eyes bore into Genma's uncertain ones. Without blinking, she marched right back up to her father. Her small form managed to look frightening with the splattered blood. She paused and glanced at her prized trophy. She looked at it for only a second before she shouldered past Genma, heading towards the open front door.

"Then I won't be a Saotome."

****

One week later, Ranma found himself before one very important man.

"And just how, exactly, does a twelve-year-old become a ronin?"

"Please, I need this! I'm done with fighting. I don't want to hurt anyone ever again. I-I can't control my strength. This is the only way. I _need_ this."

Tofu Ono pinched the bridge of his nose in a grimace. This boy had come up to him, asking about a legendary, strength-sealing technique: the Ultimate Weakness Moxibustion. A boy, apparently a ronin from the bit of info Tofu had pulled out, wanted to reduce his strength to that of a baby… all in fear of what he could do. After a scan of the boy's aura, Tofu didn't doubt his strength. But what could possibly have brought that _need_ for weakness on?

He let out a long, hesitant, reluctant breath. "Normally, I would tell you 'no' before sending you back to your parents… However, for you, I'll do it… on one condition."

Ranma bit his lip. He would do almost anything.

Tofu gave a small smile. "You become my apprentice. You must work your hardest to heal and help others until you eventually forgive yourself for whatever you've done."

And that was the happiest moment of Ranma's young life.

* * *

_(1) For the number of matches on the engraving, I did special style. 500 competitors max, so they are divided in 100 5 man pools. Best ranked moves on, so Ranma gained 5 wins and there were 100 people left. Repeating that with 20 5 man pools, Ranma totals 10 wins and 20 people left. One more time with 4 5 man pools, Ranma has 15 wins and there are 4 people left. Semifinals happen, and Ranma has 16 wins. Finally, there are the finals and that makes 17. In a normal bracket tournament, 500 is uneven AND involves only 9 fights total for one competitor.

* * *

_

Yet another prologue is here, right on time.

One thing I like about this particular prologue is the subtle literary techniques I incorporated. They are by no means _good_ techniques or well placed, but that is one thing I severely lack in, so I'm proud of what I did. Things from the adjectives describing the trophy reflecting Ranma's opinion of it, to… Well, it's a bit of a spoiler, but "cruel smirk still _plastered_ on his face." Hurray for word choice.

About the story itself… Not much is planned for it; not even the pairing (which is a big shocker on my part). I don't want to do a 'Genma finds Ranma and tries to get him to marry Akane and thus restart the series.' The key elements to this are Ranma working for Tofu, how he lives life with the weakness of Moxibustion, and his unstoppable martial arts skill.

Of course, for the third time, much credit for this must go to Viperflamer.

In regards to ranma hibiki's review, the inspirations for all of these prologues are under '_Note_' in the story specs. Also, my profile contains links to many of these.

_**A final note:**_ I'm open on giving some of these prologues to other authors to continue (WITH MY PERMISSION), but I would only want people who would (a) complete it and (b) can write well enough for it to be enjoyable. You can ask me in a signed review, and I'll examine your other works to see if I'm willing to give it away to you. I'll PM back an acceptable author, along with some background notes on the story. However, I know a couple of Prologues that I for sure won't give to other authors, but you can always ask.

* * *

Sub-Zero879: Well, I got that one on the money. Five reviews.

Churro: You said you would get flamed.

Sub-Zero879: …So did you.

Churro: So we both win?

Sub-zero879: Er, sure.

Churro: I can't wait for the next prologue. It is so amazingly short.

Sub-Zero879: Don't ruin it for the readers. …Actually, that is by far the shortest prologue I've ever written.

Churro: You know, we ought to do something funny in these chats. Monotone, typed conversations make bad reads, in my humble opinion.

Sub-Zero879: Alright, so there was this fish… And he could talk, alright? Cuz this is a joke and animals can talk in jokes… Anyways, the fish had a friend who was a-

Churro: No. Just stop. Post the damn chapter.

Sub-Zero879: Aye, Captain.

…

…

…

Churro: ….It wasn't even funny, anyways.


	4. Goddess Trilogy: The Spark of Interest

**Disclaimer:** Ranma ½ is Takahashi's, not mine.

**History:** One day, I was bored enough to bring an empty, faded, spiral-bound notebook to school. In it, I tested possible story ideas by writing the prologues of them only. Now, I wish to share my ideas with you in an entirely new type of fanfiction - a collection of prologues. I will, most likely, be posting one prologue a week until I run out of my already finished ones, in which I'll post as I complete them.

**Before Reading:** This Book of Prologues is, as its name suggests, a book of ONLY PROLOGUES for different stories. Each chapter is a new story's prologue, not a continuation. Many people won't like this and will probably want to see them finished, but I hope that some people will find some appreciation in this. Also, there is some glimmer of hope as I plan on actually writing some, if not all, of them eventually. More info on each individual story at the bottom of their respective chapters.

* * *

Prologue #4: Goddess Trilogy: The Spark of Interest

* * *

_Summary_: Ranma is the resurrected husband of a goddess. However, through a slight misunderstanding, a new woman shows up clinging to… Ryoga? Oh boy.

_Pairing_: Ranma/OC (Yes, she ends with Ranma, not Ryoga.)

_Setting_: Before Nodoka. Ranma/Ryoga know ki attacks and Hinako is there, but Saffron and Herb never happened.

_Status:_ Most likely of the Trilogy to be written.

_Note_: Ever seen that ad on ff about Shaiya from Aeria Games? It shows some woman and says either "Choose your Goddess" or "Fight for your Goddes." Hit refresh a few times if you don't see it. Well, anyways, that ad is my inspiration. I've never played it nor plan to, but the mere concept of "Fight for your Goddess" gave birth to this. Also, the trilogy doesn't mean a three part series with this goddess, but three separate stories involving goddesses (One original, one Greek, and one Norse).

* * *

A gorgeous woman reclined on an exuberant blanket on top of a grassy knoll. She rested on one elbow with one leg stretched out and the other propped up lazily yet provocatively. Straight black hair, noticeable in the bright, cheery sun, went just past her shoulders. Her dress was of a different design, starting with double-straps and not quite hugging her body. It had two circles cut out at the sides of the stomach, exposing the soft, creamy skin beneath. It extended down to her ankles, but slits at the sides allowed a peak of thigh to be seen. The dress's dull purple color did not diminish its beauty. A decorative white belt with an embossed gold buckle finished her outfit. However, gold bands and an amethyst necklace could also be seen, along with multiple gemmed rings and a perfectly twined, silver circlet. Engaging aquamarine eyes sparkled with intelligence. Her name was Sophina. She was a goddess.

Down the hill was a man. Long, flowing black hair followed his perfectly executed movements. His broad chest and sculpted muscles rippled with exertion. He wore a black tunic that held masterfully stitched designs of gold thread. Matching black leggings allowed unhindering movement. His eyes were hard sapphires. In his hands was a singing sword, one of elegant craft, rich decor, and brutal efficiency. He carried all the bearing of one worthy enough to be a companion of a goddess.

The man was currently engaged in mortal combat. His notable sword flew swift and true, as it always did. His actions were controlled enough to where not a drop of blood could tarnish his handsome form. Each swing was a kill, each parry a disarm. In a matter of seconds, his fifteen enemies were struck down.

The man's breathing was still even as he bent down and wiped his sword clean on a dead man's sleeve. Once again unblemished, he sheathed his perfect weapon and ascended the hill. As his eyes met that of his goddess, he was crushed to find _that_ look again.

Boredom.

For decades, the man had fought for his goddess against seemingly endless foes. She had always been thrilled by his bravery, his skill, his passion. But recently, she had been losing interest. Watching the same man win over and over and over and over again was fun for only so long, and the man knew that. If only he could think of a way to re-spark her interest.

He sat down, legs crossed, on the blanket. With a wave of Sophina's hand, baskets of food appeared. They ate in silence, as if the fight had never happened - less than thirty feet away no less. Afterwards, the man sighed.

****

The man walked silently next to his goddess. Oh, how he ached to hold her hand again, for her to wrap her arm around him, but it wasn't to be. They hadn't spoken in what seemed like days, touched in what felt like longer. So there he was, only inches yet miles away and locked in silence.

"You there! We have come for the goddess's hand… and your head!"

The duo stopped. Sophina turned towards the man expectantly. The man sighed and turned around. He rested a hand on the beautiful hilt of his sword as he caught sight of his newest challengers. Five burly men stood there, weapons drawn and glaring. He sighed again and drew his sword with a slow, drawn out hiss. As he approached them, Sophina crossed her arms and waited for him to hurry up.

No more words were needed. The first man came yelling and was struck down screaming. The other men also charged. A lightning quick, overhead slash had the second man down as well. A spin and a backwards thrust stopped the third man. He finished his turn, shrugging the man off his sword, and easily beheaded the forth. The fifth man paid no attention to this and brought his own sword down.

The man in gold-lined black smiled. He had dozens of methods to stop the basic attack. Half would end up with the attacker disarmed, the other half with him dead. It was more than a simple manner to bring his sword up for a parry. He had plenty of time to do so as well. Instead, he waited. He kept his dripping sword down as the other blade approached.

On the man-in-black's sword, bits of blood managed to slide down the gleaming blade. Near the tip, the bits pooled together to form a single crimson drop. The drop, its weight too much to defy gravity, began to droop. The sides of the drop pinched, looking almost like Sophina's dress. Then, in a perfect and expected manner, the sides met and the drop fell.

The attacker made contact. Without armor, the average sword shattered the man's left collarbone before tearing through his body. The sword continued through several ribs - the back missing the shoulder blade - before it stopped suddenly as it hit the sternum and spinal cord at the same time. Even the attacker was surprised.

Sophina's perfect, plush lips parted in a silent gasp. Her smooth arms stiffened in disbelief. Her enrapturing eyes widened. The look of annoyed disinterest had been completely wiped off her face and stance.

The attacker soon regained his bearings and twisted his sword, bring a wince from the man. The sudden jolt of pain forced him to drop his exquisite sword, and it fell to the dirt with a dull thunk. The attacker then ripped out his sword at an angle, doing further damage to the punctured heart. The man fell to his knees, the blood forming a wet stain on his beautiful tunic.

Seeing his foe defeated, the attacker brought his sword down for the final blow. The man's smile, although pained, was still there. Despite his injuries, he could easily pick up his sword and strike down the attacker in a heartbeat. Instead, he waited.

The blade started at the left side of his neck, only inches away from the initial wound, and it ended at the right side of his neck. Fate would have it where the blade had managed to insert perfectly between two vertebrae.

Sophina's arms began to uncross. She watched, enthralled, as her warrior's head was separated from his muscled body. She didn't blink as she followed the head's movements. It tumbled backwards, flashing her an upside-down smile, before it landed in the dirt with an ungraceful thump. The body then folded, the neck spraying blood as it also fell back. It landed on its head, covering it, but also forming a strange look - like the body was floating several inches off the ground. By then, Sophina was staring at the body with a curious look.

"Milady, I-" a disinterested flick of her hand caused the victor to be engulfed in white-hot flames. He crumbled soon after, not even able to let out a scream.

Sophina tilted her head slightly as she regarded the corpse, still unblinking. She brought a perfectly manicured finger up to her lips in thought. The purple nail went well with her alluring pink lips. She knew that her man could have won easily, and she could also tell that the death was no mistake. Despite her wisdom, she couldn't think of a reason _why_ he would do such a thing.

Her interest had been sparked.

She kneeled in the bloodied dirt next to the body and laid one hand over his stilled heart. Surely such an action called for resurrection. In a flash of blinding blue light, the body vanished - head and all.

Satisfied, the goddess gently picked up the sword. The instant her hand touched it, the blood and dirt vanished. In a graceful movement, she rose to her feet. Not a speck of dust could be seen on her despite her previous position. She cradled the legendary weapon to her generous chest. A smile graced her beautiful face.

"All that's left now is to find you… husband."

* * *

Yep, this is a ridiculously short prologue. I thought about continuing until she appeared at the Dojo for the first time, but… Nah. Anyways, in a trilogy of goddess stories, this is the first. Also, out of the three, this is the most likely to be written (I see a clear plot for this).

_**A final note:**_ Um, actually… I think I'm actually going to end up writing all of these stories. I'm going to finish them one at a time and then post them all in a single Burst. I'll prolly be in college at the time.

* * *

Churro: I don't know what is more amazing: that you _willing_ wrote something this short or that I didn't see any typo's when editing.

Sub-Zero879: Hey now, after (Oh no, breaking the fifth wall) finishing a 62,000 word chapter, I'm allowed a short one like this.

Churro: …

Sub-Zero879: ?

Churro: …

Sub-Zero879: Oh, did I not tell you I finished it?

Churro: …

Sub-Zero879: Heh… Yeah…

Churro: …

Sub-Zero879: Well, he's in shock. I guess I'll just end this here…

Churro: …

Sub-Zero879: …

Churro: …

Sub-Zero879: Hah! You blinked first!

Churro: …Die. Slowly, painfully - with such unimaginable agony that anyone with a morsel of empathy will start writhing and screaming.

Sub-Zero879: …Well, _that's_ a new one.


End file.
